


Secrets

by el3anorrigby



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Emotionally Repressed, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, Originally Posted on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 08:58:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17639729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/el3anorrigby/pseuds/el3anorrigby
Summary: Both men battle their inner demons when it comes to the other. But they’re always good with action rather than words once all comes out in the open.





	Secrets

**Author's Note:**

> Posted on tumblr but this on ao3 has tweaks, with added dialogues and scenes. Unbetaed, so apologies for all mistakes.

Napoleon could feel Illya’s eyes on him like daggers. They had walked in silence all the way from Waverly’s room to their office and now, left with no other choice, he would have to deal with his partner’s wrath, 

“You never told me about your covert mission.”

“That’s the entire point of it, Peril.”

Silence ensued, and before Napoleon could explain himself further, Illya backed him up against the wall behind them, grasping the sides of his jacket hard. Napoleon tried to make a forthwith counter by pushing Illya off, but he was no match for the taller man. In the end, he ended being backed up against the wall again. 

“All right, I should’ve said something to you. Sorry I had you worried.”

“That is understatement.”

“Sorry again.”

Lately, UNCLE agents had mysteriously gone missing without a trace, and when Illya couldn’t contact Napoleon and no one else seemed to know of his whereabouts, Illya had feared the same unfortunate fate had befallen his partner. It was only a few days before Napoleon’s return that Waverly finally revealed that the former CIA man had been roped in to lead a covert mission in solving the missing agents’ case. His superior, however, failed to mention any details of it. 

“What was the mission about?” Illya now demanded from Napoleon. “Waverly did not tell me anything.”

“It was THRUSH. One of our agents was suspected of being a mole, giving them inside information about our agents that they needed and I had to get in to confirm Waverly’s suspicion.”

“You went undercover as THRUSH? But the mole would have known you are UNCLE,” Illya hissed, unsatisfied with Napoleon’s explanation.

“It was safe. I had a good disguise, he hardly recognised me. Besides, I got out unscathed, didn’t I?”

“Did you?”

“Fuck, yes, I did! I’m fine!”

Napoleon didn’t mean to raise his voice but he needed to put his point across, right into Illya’s thick head. Even if he had wanted to, Napoleon couldn’t let Illya know about the mission. He thought Illya would understand his reasons why. He never expected he would receive such a reaction from the Russian now that he was back.

Napoleon eyed the man who was mere inches away from him, trying to gauge what was on his mind, but failed. Instead, something swelled in Napoleon’s chest. Now, there was an unspoken truth that he had feelings for his partner, a fellow agent. A very male agent. Yes, Napoleon knew he was being stupid, but there were some things he could not control. He dared not tell anyone about it, even Gaby, because love in the workplace was unacceptable, especially in their line of job.

“Were you hurt? Did they ask anything of you?”

With each emphasised word, Napoleon was being pulled harder into Illya’s grasp, causing him to suck in forced breaths. He needed to calm down and so did Illya. Napoleon understood what Illya was insinuating. The anger in his eyes was heated. Despite it, Napoleon liked seeing such intensity in those blue eyes of his, and he continued looking at them, admiring them, without uttering a word. Illya seemed to have moved closer, their hips almost touching but there was no change in his expression. This was his punishment, Napoleon swallowed. To have someone he wanted, so close, yet it was something he could never have. His heart was in his throat. What if Illya secretly knew that he has the hots for him? Was he toying with his emotions?

“Answer me, Cowboy.”

Illya’s voice pulled Napoleon out of his thoughts. His tone had calmed but he was still holding Napoleon as if he wanted to make him feel uncomfortable. 

“I’m fine, Peril, they didn’t hurt me. They didn’t touch me.”

Illya’s jaw clenched but then his eyes quickly softened on Napoleon. 

“Next time you tell me everything. I do not care for Waverly’s rules.”

Napoleon’s heart did a flip. What was Illya trying to tell him? He wanted to protest and remind Illya that Waverly was still their boss above all else but was pulled into a sudden crushing hug. Fuck, this was all he would get after all that heated build up? A fucking hug? But it was much better than the Russian being angry at him all night and though he wished Illya had kissed him instead, Napoleon would take what he was being given. 

“I’ll buy you a drink to make it up to you,” were the words that slipped out of his mouth to make things less awkward on his part, and Illya thankfully nodded to Napoleon’s suggestion while still holding on to him tight.

 

—

 

Illya battled his demons as Napoleon and he were tucked away in a dark corner booth of a neighbourhood bar not far from Napoleon’s apartment. They have had a couple of glasses of good scotch and vodka; Napoleon’s way of unwinding after his successful covert mission. Illya had agreed only because he wanted to spend time with the American after being away from him for more than a month. And of course, another reason was because he was ridiculously in love with the man. Illya had hated himself for it but he had come to terms with his feelings. Napoleon being away from him and the hell Illya had been through then had made him see things more clearly. He couldn’t live without Napoleon in his life. It was a terrible realisation but there was nothing that he could do about it.

“Ahh, this song was playing while I watched you being chased by Vinciguerra’s goons in the docks back in Rome. Interesting choice of music for tonight, don’t you think, Peril?”

Illya raised an eyebrow, ears perking up to what was being played on the radio at the bar. Napoleon had told him the story of that infamous incident of him sitting in a truck eating a sandwich and drinking wine while the song was playing, and Gaby had explained the meaning of the lyrics to Illya when his curiosity had mounted because Napoleon could not stop talking about it. 

“Gaby said it is a love song.”

“She’s right. The title is ‘Che Vuole Questa Musica Stasera’. A song about someone thinking of his lost love. Would have been terrible if I had lost you that night,” Napoleon had teased him.

“We are not lovers.”

“No, Peril. No, we’re not. _Unfortunately._ ”

Remembering what the song was about and remembering that conversation from so long ago, heat coloured Illya’s cheeks as Napoleon’s eyes fixated on him.

“You love this song, don’t you?”

Napoleon was smiling at him and Illya quickly scoffed at Napoleon’s suggestion. He took a swig of his drink when Napoleon’s unrelenting stare sent a small shiver running through his body.

“I hate this song,” he retorted, putting his empty glass down seconds later. 

“No, you don’t, Peril. Admit it.”

Napoleon’s eyes twinkled with humor and there was a mischievous curl to his lips. Illya unceremoniously leaned in, discovery widening in his gaze. Even through the dim light and alcohol fumes, the fact was not lost on Illya. Napoleon’s eyes were beautiful. And they always demanded his attention. Those blue eyes were sometimes softened by pain, sometimes lazily seductive. Sometimes, they were the window to his soul in which Illya could not resist. 

Illya was not sure which look he was receiving at the moment so he narrowed his eyes to see better, but when Napoleon threw him a look, forehead wrinkling with that slight tilt of his head, Illya’s breath immediately left his body. 

He cursed underneath his breath, knowing he was royally fucked when it came to Napoleon. And he really needed to do something about his predicament.

 

—

 

They both headed back to Napoleon’s apartment after their drinking session eventually ended. Illya figured Napoleon was too drunk and though the American protested he was fine, Illya did not believe his words and was not going to leave him alone.

“You are worse than Gaby, Cowboy. Just terrible.”

Napoleon grinned up at Illya by his side. 

“Well, it’s unfortunate that you are stuck with me. A terrible partner from the start.”

“Maybe I lied, maybe you’re not so terrible,” Illya murmured a soft reply.

Hearing that Napoleon stopped in his tracks and held Illya’s upper arm in a firm grip. It was a bold move. And what he’s about to say was even bolder.

“You ever regret meeting me in Berlin?”

Illya shook his head. His gaze was resolute on Napoleon. “Never.”

There was no hesitance in Illya’s answer and there was something in his voice that made Napoleon decide life’s too short for him not to take any chances. Fuck, suddenly he didn’t care if Illya didn’t feel the same. He didn’t care if Illya did not return his feelings. He just wanted, needed to tell him everything.

“I think I am in love with you.”

Napoleon’s mother used to say men are better with actions rather than words. Like with most things, she was definitely correct in this regard. Because all of a sudden Illya was kissing him. Napoleon gasped in surprise. The next thing he knew those giants hands were all over him and Napoleon’s back was against a dirty brick wall in some back alley and he was kissing Illya back. They kiss and kiss and kiss, lost in their desire, the night drowning them in near-black darkness.

 

—

 

Napoleon’s unexpected confession had floored Illya. He was practically vibrating out of his skin, excited. Nerves were wrecking his system. His hands were now digging into Napoleon’s hips, trying to stop their shaking. He had heard stories before from fellow agents, from informants, from their marks; Napoleon’s reputation as an excellent lover. It had always made his stomach churn, the image of Napoleon with anyone but him leaving him green with jealousy. He had never been on the opposite end of Napoleon’s ministrations but now...oh _God_ , Illya’s world was spinning off its axis.

Despite the haze in his brain and wanting all of Napoleon, Illya was suddenly worried that this was all just a drunken mistake but the minute Napoleon opened his mouth and dipped his tongue in again, biting at Illya’s lower lip, those unwanted thoughts fizzled from his brain completely. Illya’s knees buckled and his head was just swarmed. He was dizzy, light, like he was at the edge of a cliff and he just needed to let go and fall.

“Napoleon,” he whispered against his lips, voice broken.

Napoleon leaned into him, molded their bodies together as he cupped his face in the palm of his hands.

“What are you thinking?”

Illya had been partners with this man for a year now and there was no denying that he loved Napoleon so much, the mere idea of losing him would tear him apart in an instant.

“This is no joke, yes?” he asked. 

“Never,” Napoleon whispered, voice serious.

“When you were gone I thought I would never see you again.”

“I’m sorry, Illya.”

Illya’s heart raced as he closed his eyes against the onslaught of repressed emotion. “Don’t do it again.”

“I won’t. I’m here now,” Napoleon said, repeated, over and over. “I’m here.”

“I know,” Illya murmured, kissing the side of Napoleon’s mouth softly. “I trust you.”

“You mean so much to me,” Napoleon quietly revealed and Illya’s heart rested in his throat. He pulled away and the blue eyes he saw then revealed something he had failed to see all those times before. 

Love.

**Author's Note:**

> The last one.


End file.
